When the Thunder Rolls In
by JerichosRiot
Summary: When the thunder rolls in, you know a storm is coming. You know a storm is coming, promising destruction, danger, and yet, you find it doesn't concern you. You find it makes you feel alive. When Harry catches a distraught Hermione visiting Draco Malfoy in the infirmary after being hit with Sectumsempra, he demands to know how their love came to be. 6th year with flashbacks
1. Tell Me Your Story

_**A/N: Hey, guys! So, just had this floating around in my head and finally decided to do something with it!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter One**_  
 _ **Tell Me Your Story**_

Harry slipped back behind the curtains when the door to the infirmary burst open. He had been hoping to sneak out without anyone the wiser. What he had done to Malfoy sickened him. He still hated the git, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. He wasn't a violent person, he should have listened to Hermione. That book was dangerous. And speaking of Hermione...

He watched in wonder as he realized he knew the bushy mane of curls that belonged to the girl who had just entered the room. He frowned as he took in her puffy eyes and red cheeks. She was sniffling as she ran into the room. He didn't understand her presence. The only one in the room was...Malfoy.

With a hand over her mouth, no doubt to muffle the sobs wracking through her body, Hermione hovered over the offending blonde's bed. Harry strained to hear them and risked shuffling closer, still hidden by another bed's curtain, head peaking around it.

"Oh Merlin, what did he do?" the brunette cried. At the sound of her voice, Malfoy stirred. He let out a pained moan. "G-Granger? What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked. Harry wanted to know the same thing. What on earth was Hermione doing visit the ferret in the middle of the night?

"I-I had to see that you were okay. I heard what happened earlier. I wanted to come sooner, but...it wasn't safe until now," she answered quietly. She was wringing her hands nervously as she looked the boy over. His pale chest was bare save for the white bandages wrapped tightly around it. Vivid crimson had seeped through in certain places and she could see the agony in his face every time he moved.

"So, you've decided to talk to me again, is it?" he questioned coldly. Hermione sniffled and attempted to keep her tears at bay. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. Do you remember that? I do. I can't forget it."

Harry continued to watch in fascination.

Hermione seemed to shrink into herself at his words. "I do."

"Then why are you here, Granger?" Malfoy's demanding voice sounded weak. Harry could see that he was trying to avoid looking at Hermione.

He stared past her, jaw locked in an angry fashion.

"I miss you, Draco."

Grey eyes snapped to Hermione. Harry hoped the two were so absorbed in themselves that they missed his audible gasp.

"Oh, so I'm suddenly _Draco_ again?" the Slytherin sneered. Hermione seemed to ignore his harsh question. Instead, she took a seat on the bed next to him. His white face reddened when she gently took one of his hands in both of hers. Harry was in a shocked awe. "Yes. You've always been Draco to me. I'm sorry for the way I acted last year. I never meant to hurt you," Hermione whispered softly.

Malfoy scoffed only to recoil in pain at the action. Hermione squeezed his hand. "Oh, please hold still. I hate seeing you in so much pain."

"Well, that seems to be all I get from you and your blasted friends, so I don't see why you care," he snapped curtly.

She once again ignored him. She raised a hand to his face. Malfoy didn't dare breathe as she ghosted her fingertips over the dark bags under his silver eyes. She frowned as she cupped his face with one hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her touch. "You look terrible, Draco."

He smirked, and without opening his eyes, retorted, "You don't look quite so fabulous yourself."

"I admit, I was rather...distraught when I heard what happened. Now please, tell me why you look like the living dead," she scolded. Malfoy turned his head away and Hermione placed her hand in her lap.

Finally, he returned his gaze to her. "You know I can't." He sounded troubled, like he wished that he could.

"You can trust me. I know-"

"You didn't hurt me," he interrupted suddenly.

"I-what?"

"Last year. You didn't hurt me. I-I understood. At least, I do now."

"I didn't mean any of it. I was upset and not thinking and I-" Hermione rushed. Malfoy cut in again. "What my father did was unforgivable, Granger. You had every right to tell me to stay away from you. I wasn't hurt because I had been expecting it all along. I mean, what we had was more than I ever could have asked for. But I always knew it was going to come to an end. So when you told me to go, it was all I could do to accept it. Resignation, I guess. It was good of you to do, though. At least it wasn't over something I had done myself. It was my father. I'm afraid if that hadn't happened, it would be because of me now."

"Draco, I was a fool. What your family did never should have affected our friendship. I knew that you didn't know anything about what happened that night, even as I accused you of everything. I was wrong then, and I know I've been wrong this year. It's obvious there's something upsetting you, but I was too proud to apologize and find out what's wrong." The girl didn't appreciate that he wasn't looking at her when she finished. He looked pained, but not because of the blood soaked bandages across his chest.

"No, you were right," he insisted, his eyes trained directly on her. "You shouldn't even be here now, Granger. You shouldn't concern yourself with me anymore. As much as your righteous Gryffindor ways both fascinate and repulse me, they have no business here. I am the worst kind of person. I am a wretched coward, Granger."

"Stop it, you're no such thing!" Hermione admonished. She only fell silent when he raised a shaking hand up to her face. He wiped away a stray tear. "You don't know me anymore, Granger. You don't know what I've become," he murmured sadly.

She shook her head. "Draco, we were friends from fourth year on, I think I at least know you a little."

"Not anymore. That Draco is gone. He was a coward, too."

"You were my best friend," she exclaimed, "I was overwhelmed last year and took my confusion and anger out on you. I've regretted it every day since."

A silence settled upon the two giving Harry time to comprehend what he was seeing. It was clear now that Hermione had somehow been _friends_ with _Malfoy_. How had he not noticed? Was he that wrapped up with what was happening to himself that he missed what seemed like a very close friendship and a nasty falling out?

"Granger. You should hate me right now. I hate me right now," Malfoy said suddenly.

"What are you talking about? Does this have anything to do with why you've been acting so strangely all year?"

"No. Yes. Yes, it does. Hermione, I've done something terrible. Something I can't take back. I wish I could, but..." Malfoy's voice was thick with emotion. Harry had never heard him sound anything but bored or angry.

As usual, Hermione was much faster putting the pieces together than he was because realization dawned on Hermione before Harry could even begin to comprehend.

"You _didn't_."

Malfoy choked down the lump in his throat at the hurt accusation in her voice. He couldn't answer. His silence was all she needed.

"How could you?" she shouted, jumping to her feet. "After all those years telling me you'd changed! How you didn't believe in any of it anymore! Was it some kind of game to you?"

Malfoy winced away from her harsh tone. "You have to believe me, I never wanted this. But you have to understand. It wasn't a choice. It was a punishment."

Hermione paused, her heart racing dangerously fast. "Punishment?" she echoed, her fury remaining.

"For my father's failure at the Ministry," Malfoy explained, "He knows I'm going to fail, too. He just wants my parents to suffer while they wait for the inevitable."

She took a deep breath. "And what's the inevitable?"

He couldn't look at her. "My death. He's going to kill me."

Even Harry started at his words.

"Draco! No! Why would he kill you?" she cried, returning to her spot on his bed.

"Granger, it doesn't matter, does it? It's going to happen no matter what I do. I told you, he wants to punish my father for failing."

Her sobs renewed.

"Granger, please don't cry. I'm not worth it," Draco murmured, grabbing her hand. "I'm not worth your tears."

"But you are. You're worth so much more to me!" she cried. "How did this happen? How did things get so far?"

Malfoy offered a tragic smile. "Things are going the way they were always going to. The only difference is that a little good snuck its way in there. And now it's making it harder to go back to the way things were supposed to be."

"No!" she argued reverently, "It doesn't have to be that way. Not anymore. Because of the good that happened. It changed things."

"But not enough, I'm afraid," he answered softly, wistfully.

"Draco." Her voice was nothing more than a cracked whisper.

"I'm going to die, Granger. And there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it. Thank you for giving me what we had. It was…most needed."

"I-I can't believe you're giving up so easily. I can't believe that you're just going to-" she stuttered, her sobs receding. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I don't know you anymore. Maybe I never did. If you're going to be like that, then I guess this is good-bye, _Malfoy_."

He hadn't heard her call him by his surname since she told him to stay away from her the year before. It crushed him.

"Granger! Don't go!" Malfoy pleaded as the Gryffindor girl made to leave. The only sign she gave that she heard him was a slight falter in her step. Harry winced for the blonde as he struggled to sit up. His already pale face had gone deathly white with the pain that struck him. But he'd be damned if he didn't finish his conversation with Granger. He cried out in pain as he rose to his feet, his shuffled gait a pitiful sight to watch. Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. _He_ had caused that.

Amazingly, Malfoy caught up to Hermione. "Wait," he said, grabbing a hold of her arm to both stop her and steady his shaking body. And at that point, Harry really shouldn't have been surprised, but he was still flabbergasted when Malfoy proceeded to kiss his best friend with the hungry desperation of a doomed man.

His cheeks flushed scarlet as he witnessed Hermione kiss Malfoy back with the same fervor. Her fingers tangled themselves up in his white blonde hair as he cradled her cheek in one hand. His other was on the small of her back, holding her tighter to him than Harry was comfortable with. And yet, he couldn't look away. Suddenly, he began to wonder what was real about the past three years. He had thought Hermione had hated Draco as much as he did. He thought Malfoy was a prejudiced git bound on the path to becoming a Death Eater. But the passionate embrace the two were currently locked in begged to differ.

He was only dragged out of his thoughts when they pulled apart. Malfoy rested his forehead against hers, their panting breaths mingling. "Hermione," he murmured. God, he loved her name. "Hermione, I never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you. It's always been you. I'm afraid you're it for me."

What?

Hermione slid her hands down his neck and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. "I love you, too, Draco. I never stopped. It killed me to act like I didn't care anymore."

Malfoy's beaming smile faded into a stern line. "I'm afraid you're going to have to continue that."

"What? Why?" she wondered, taken aback.

He gave her a disapproving look, though he still held her in a tender embrace. "Because while it's certain that he's going to kill me, you're safe from him. As long as no one ever knows about us, about what we are-were, then he has no reason to hurt you. Not because of me at least."

"You tell me you still love me only to say that pretending not to will keep me safe? Newsflash, Draco. None of us are safe. So, if I'm going to be in danger regardless, let me be happy. At least let me be happy." She was torn between her annoyance at his logic and how good it felt to be in his arms again.

"Hermione, love, you have no idea what you're talking about. I know you're in danger because of Potter. But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something ever happened to you because of me," he tried to explain, his feelings not willing to translate themselves into words.

"Draco, if you just let us help you, you wouldn't have to worry about any of this," she implored, knowing he wouldn't listen.

"Honestly, what would even be able to do? Tell me, how would you be able to help?"

Harry couldn't take it any longer. Stepping out from his hiding place, he said, "I think that's where I come in."

The couple sprang apart from each other. "Harry!" Hermione gasped, hand over her pounding heart, "W-where did you come from?"

"I've...been here a while, actually," he admitted sheepishly.

"H-how long?"

"Long enough. Now, if we're going to be helping the ferret, someone may want to enlighten me as to how this came to be," he said, gesturing at the pair of them.

The Boy-Who-Lived stared at the unlikely pair expectantly. "Well? You better have a damn good story as to how I found my best friend making out with who I thought was our enemy. I have half a mind not to listen, to run off and tell everyone about you, Malfoy," Harry warned dangerously. He hid the guilt he felt as Malfoy's silver eyes widened in panic. He pretended not to notice that Hermione's hand entwined itself with Draco's once again.

"Harry, I-" Hermione began.

"How? I was utterly convinced these past few years that you hated this git as much as I did. And now I find out that you actually _love_ him? How could you not tell me? I mean, how did I not notice?" he questioned, his voice rough.

She had the decency to look ashamed. "I knew you and Ron would hate it. But we became such good friends, Harry. And we got to know each other when you two were having that ridiculous spat in fourth year. I needed a friend. And Draco became that. I'm sorry for not telling you, I just knew it wouldn't end well."

"Is this why you've been convincing me he isn't a Death Eater? Because you're _in love_ with him?" he sneered, much like how the boy in question used to.

Draco's eyes flashed charcoal. "Don't put that on her, Potter. Don't you dare."

The blonde's sudden entrance into the conversation startled Harry. Draco's glare chilled him to the bone. "My mistakes are mine. She had nothing to do with my decision. You can't blame her for her ridiculous ignorance to the darkness in people."

"I'm going to ignore that last remark, you utter fool, but it wasn't exactly your decision, was it? It was a punishment. Would have taken the mark otherwise?" Hermione cut in, scolding him.

"Of course I wouldn't have taken the bloody mark!" was his enraged response. Hermione remained unflinching. "I just said you're it for me, didn't I? Becoming a Death Eater would rather obliterate the already miniscule chance I have at being with you, wouldn't it?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Hermione attacked Draco with a fierce hug. The boy staggered back with the sudden addition of her weight. His pained moan had her reeling back. "Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry! I just-that was-what you said-" she sputtered like a lovesick fool, much to Harry's dismay. Draco managed to offer her an adoring smile through his agonized grimace.

"And you," Hermione suddenly shouted, spinning to Harry. "What the hell were you thinking, using that bloody curse? I may have hid what he and I had from you, but I never risked anyone's life for a childish feud!"

It was his turn to hang his head. "I know, I know. It's killing me, knowing I did that. And that's why I haven't hexed him into the next century. That's why I'm willing to hear you guys out. If you really have changed, if this isn't really what you wanted, Malfoy, I am here to help you. Hermione's my best friend, and though I forget it sometimes, her happiness is important to me. You just have to explain to me why it's you that makes her happy."

Draco's eyes were unreadable to Harry, his expression blank, nose stuck up, shoulders back in that haughty stance of his. But the tender grip on his friend's hand hinted at a multitude of emotions just under the surface.

"Well, Potter, if you must know, Hermione and I became friends because of your and Weasel's tendency to disregard her. During the-" Draco began in a monotone voice.

"Hang on, we didn't disregard her, we-"

"Were so caught up in your own petty feud that you let her research all your tasks, act as a messenger between you and Weasel, and let mental fans threaten her?" Draco's flat voice silenced Harry. "You two are not perfect, Potter. And that's okay. It gave me her. It gave me a whole new life. For a while anyway."

"But you can't just tell me that I-"

"Oh, shut it, Harry," Hermione groaned in exasperation. He was startled at her abrupt tone. "He saved my life in fourth year. _That's_ why we became friends."

His eyes flew to the blonde who was staring steadfastly at the floor.

"Maybe…maybe you should tell me your story now," Harry said quietly.

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, what do you think? This is m first multi-chapter Dramione fic, so I'm pretty excited! Let me know what you guys think!**_

 _ **~Jericho'sRiot~**_


	2. Panicked as Anything

_**Chapter Two**_  
 _ **Panicked as Anything**_

A particularly smug Draco Malfoy was sauntering down the darkened hallway with his usual smarmy smirk. He had just successfully delivered a fresh batch of ' _Potter Stinks'_ badges after curfew and was sneaking his way back to the Slytherin dungeons. He was vaguely aware of Peeves' atrocious singing voice off in the distance but was otherwise alone in the dark. He had just rounded a corner when he was sent falling to his knees.

Disgruntled at his momentary lapse in the grace that he was so proud of, Draco had to know the cause. It was not what he had been expecting.

It was a body.

He nearly carried on his way until his squinted eyes registered that an all too familiar bush of curls was attached to it. Draco was astounded, not to have tripped over a body in the hall but to see the ever so righteous mudblood breaking curfew.

It was a full minute before it occurred to Draco that she wasn't moving.

Ever the courteous gentleman, he nudged her with his foot. Nothing. With an exasperated sigh, he pulled out his wand and whispered, " _Lumos_."

The sight he was met with nearly made the so carefully composed boy lose his dinner.

Blood. Everywhere. Had it not been for the telltale disastrous hair, Draco wasn't convinced he would even have recognized her.

It was as though that blasted bird from the previous year had mauled her, only with knives for talons. Had Draco been familiar with Muggle culture, he might've likened it to having been hugged by Edward Scissorhands.

He was stunned. His hands fluttered helplessly above her. Draco wasn't sure whether he didn't want to touch her because she was, as his father belabored, a filthy mudblood or because he was afraid he might hurt her further.

"Merlin, Granger, what the hell happened?" Draco exclaimed incredulously, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down among the snoring paintings. He was at a loss. They should have been in bed hours ago. She was bleeding profusely and paler than Draco. Admittedly, he had not thought such a thing possible. Then, there was the simple yet crucial fact that he was Draco Malfoy and that being seen with the half dead Gryffindor princess surely meant his death sentence. He cursed and tried to shake the still girl awake.

"Granger, wake up!" he ordered in an urgent whisper. No response. His eyes scanned over her once more for a clue as to how she ended up in such a state. By her limp hand was a stack of splayed letters. He snatched up the closest one and squinted his eyes. Wand light held to the parchment, Draco's stomach churned.

Blood dripped ominously from the soaked letter. Its message was chilling.

 _Stay away from them, you vile bitch. Toying with Potter and Krum, who do you think you are, you filthy mudblood? Hopefully this letter ensures that you see just how filthy your blood truly is._

 _Hate mail?_ Draco wondered curiously. How…unexpected. He was under the impression that everyone was falling at Granger's feet.

The other thing that made the blonde sick was the name in the crude letter. Someone else had called her a mudblood. Yes, he had been calling her that for years, but he was met with the startling reality that her blood was, in fact, as red as his own. He watched in morbid fascination as the crimson liquid splashed onto the stone floor.

What had he, or the sender of the lethal letter, been expecting? A muddy brown? Honestly, he wasn't sure. But it was this that finally spurred him into action. Mudblood or not, bleeding that much was deadly for anyone.

With hesitant hands, Draco Malfoy scooped Hermione Granger into his arms.

Draco prayed to any deity that would listen to keep their path clear until the hospital wing. He was pleased to find her light as a feather, for he was able to move quickly. She let out a small groan and his heart leapt.

"Granger?" Draco whispered hopefully. "Granger, stay with me. Come on."

Her head lolled back once again. He shifted her so that her head was cradled in the crook of his arm. Hermione's deathly pallor was illuminated amongst the quivering shadows thrown by the torches burning dimly along the halls. Draco felt something akin to fear. He put it down to knowing that it would mean his head should the bloody saint of Gryffindor met her death in his care.

He hurried his pace but did not run. Malfoys were far too dignified to be seen running. Especially when carrying the embodiment of their greatest prejudice.

After a close call with Mrs. Norris, Filch's foul feline, Draco fell to a halt outside the hospital wing. He pounded madly on the mammoth doors. "Madam Pomfrey!" he screamed.

The door swung open with a gasp.

* * *

"So, it was something in the letter that I opened?" Hermione Granger wondered sleepily. Madam Pomfrey, eyes red from what Hermione was certain could not truly be tears, nodded gravely. "Miss Granger, I am very disappointed that you kept those letters to yourself. You almost died with that one last night. If it hadn't been for-"

"Hermione!" a voice cried. She turned her head weakly to see Harry and Ron sprint into the room. They skidded to an ungraceful halt at her bedside. "Are you okay? We didn't even know you'd gone last night! McGonagall came in this morning and told us something happened to you!" Harry exclaimed, green eyes wide with worry.

The Boy-Who-Lived already had enough stress in his life, what with the Triwizard Tournament business. Hermione felt a rush of guilt. She worried her bespectacled best friend far too often. She knew it nearly killed him when she had been petrified by the basilisk second year and last year her stress levels had raised his through the roof.

Ron, face nearly redder than his ginger locks, half fell onto her bed. "'Mione! Bloody 'ell, thought we'd lost you the way McGonagall carried on."

"You nearly did, dearies," Madam Pomfrey frowned. "As I was about to tell Miss Granger, here, you actually might have if it weren't for-"

The witch was once again interrupted by Hermione's companions. Ron scoffed. "What's bloody Malfoy doin' here?" he sneered. Both Harry and Ron glared over the bedridden Hermione who was attempting to prop herself up. Her struggle went unnoticed as her two friends were busy staring down their childhood enemy.

Huffing in frustration, Hermione abandoned her efforts and simply turned her head in the direction they were looking. Her honey colored eyes were assaulted by a shock of silvery blonde hair ducking into the towering mahogany doors. Grey eyes met hers and the blonde froze. His eyes flicked from Hermione to her fuming friends to Madam Pomfrey. With a nod from the latter, he retreated back into the hallway.

"Wonder what that git was doin' in here," Ron grumbled. Harry shrugged and muttered. "I bet her comes in just to mess with all the sick people. I can't imagine easier victims for Malfoy."

The corners of Hermione's lips twitched downwards. "I'm sure he had a perfectly good reason to be here. Now, if you please, I apparently almost died yesterday, so I'd like to sleep more."

The two boys shifted awkwardly. Madam Pomfrey offered them a small smile before shooing them away.

Hermione let out a sigh, wincing as her body protested, and the tough but kindly witch approached her bed. "So, I understand the spell and what happened because of it, but…how did I get here? I remember opening that letter by the library."

"Well, Miss Granger, I've actually been trying to explain that. I am most assuredly shocked by the manner in which you were brought to my care last night. There was a frightful banging and shouting. And then, I opened the door to see you in his arms. You were so pale…there was so much blood…"

Hermione nodded thoughtfully but then paused. An eyebrow raised. "Madam Pomfrey…whose arms?"

"Why, it was the Malfoy boy, actually."

Draco's pale face burned. He hadn't expected to see Scarface and the Weasl in the hospital wing so early. He told himself that he only wanted to check on her to see if carrying her all that way had been worth the effort.

He anxiously paced the hall, undecided if he should try to go back inside. However, even after he watched Gryffindor's favorite idiots stumble out of the hospital wing, he couldn't bring himself to enter.

She had been awake. She had met his eyes. He didn't know how much she knew about the previous night. As Draco stormed down the hallway, sour scowl on his pointed features, Madam Pomfrey was explaining his role in Hermione's dramatic arrival to the hospital wing.

"Malfoy?" Hermione gaped. " _Draco Malfoy_ , the boy who hates me and everything I stand for, _carried_ me here?"

"Indeed. He was in a right state, poor dear, panicked as anything. Though, I suppose anyone would be with how hurt you were," Madam Pomfrey shrugged. Hermione shook her head as vigorously as she could. "Forgive me, Madam Pomfrey, but you must be mistaken. Malfoy would sooner spit on me than bring, let alone _carry_ , me here."

"I may be getting on in years, dearie, but my eyes are better than ever. And I can assure you that it was young Mister Malfoy that delivered you last night. Caused quite the commotion, actually," the gray haired witch explained. "Both your Head of House had to come down. Professor Snape was in a right tizzy over being dragged out of bed at such an hour. And Professor McGonagall was most distraught over your state, Miss Granger."

* * *

Draco shuddered as he trudged to class. Potions was usually his favorite subject, but the last person he wanted to see was his godfather. He slunk into the room and claimed a seat at the back. Scarhead and Weaselbee shot him their usual glare and he returned fire with his trade mark smirk. But a frown took its place the second they turned their raven and red haired heads. Snape had appeared at the board.

Draco withered in his seat under the disappointed glare the greasy haired man directed at him. He had thought carrying a bloodied Granger would have been messy, but it turned out to have nothing on the aftermath of it.

Both Snape and McGonagall had been summoned. The sight they were greeted with must have been terrifying. Pomfrey was fretting about a bloodstained bookworm while Draco was sat shaking in shock on the bed beside them, robes brown with dried blood.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall had demanded. Draco merely turned his head reluctantly to Hermione's still motionless form. His Transfiguration teacher gasped. "Granger? What in good heavens happened, Poppy?"

The witch in question was too busy muttering spells and mixing potions, so she jabbed a finger towards Draco.

"Mister Malfoy," Professor Snape breathed heavily, "Do explain yourself."

"W-well, I was heading down-" Draco began to stutter.

"Out of bed after curfew, Malfoy?" Snape sneered.

"No, er, well, yes."

"Professor Snape," McGonagall cut in with a sharp tone, "It is obvious to me that both our students were out of bed after hours. The important question is how Mister Malfoy, here, came by Miss Granger. Do explain, boy."

Draco gulped, feeling guilty though he knew he had nothing to do with the state Hermione was in. "I was walking back to my dormitory when I tripped over something. I didn't have any light because I was, er, trying not to wake up the portraits. And when I looked to see what I tripped over, it was Granger. I swear she was like this when I found her. There were loads of letters around her, and that one there is what I think did this. The message in it rather implies it, I thought."

The mention of such evidence piqued McGonagall's interest, and she reached for the blood soaked parchment that the blonde held out to her. Snape read over the other teacher's shoulder. Moments later, he muttered something to her, presumably the spell the letter had unleashed. His cold eyes landed on his godson. "That's 10 points from Slytherin for being out of bed after hours."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, glancing from Hermione to Draco. "That's 20 to Slytherin for bringing Miss Granger here, Mister Malfoy. But do avoid breaking curfew in the future. Professor Snape, if you could be so kind as to guide Mister Malfoy back to his dormitory?"

The dark haired man clasped a hand on the blonde's shoulder and shoved the boy out of the room.

Back in his four poster bed, curtains blocking out the world around him, Draco stewed. And worried. He was angry for having been caught, for having to have stumbled, quite literally, across Granger. But then, despite assuring himself that he had spent enough time on the Gryffindor, he couldn't help but worry about her.

He pulled his green comforter over his shoulder and curled up. He buried his face into his pillow, willing the image of a cut up Granger out of his mind. He found that it did not work. With only a few hours till class, Draco tossed and turned, anger and concern eating away at him.

"Mister Malfoy! If I must repeat your name one more time, that will be detention for a week!"

Draco jumped nearly a foot off his chair as the voice of his Potions master ripped him from his daytime nightmare. He quickly gained control of his flustered features, hardening them into a mask of indifference. His classmates sniggered, and Malfoy didn't even bother glaring at the two morons seated in front of him. The Boy-Who-Lived or, in that particular case, Laughed, was too much for the young Malfoy that day. He had enough to think about. Putting him and that offensively idiotic ginger in their place would have taken more effort than he had the energy for.

* * *

"It-it was you?" Harry stuttered. "You saved Hermione?"

Draco had fallen silent after finishing his story, but Hermione spoke up. "He did. Harry, if he hadn't found me, I would've died of blood loss."

"Why didn't you just leave her there?" Harry backtracked rapidly and apologized profusely to the indignant Hermione. "What I meant was, you always talked about wanting her dead. I mean, just earlier that year, at the World Cup. You told her to 'keep her bushy head down', that it wasn't safe for mudbloods like her. What made you save her?"

Draco nodded in recognition. "Did it ever occur to you, Potter, that I am not as evil as you think? That I warned her about the danger in a way that was safe for me. Sure, it was an insult, but anything else would have been unbelievable. It's different when silly threats repeated to make your father proud turns into harming innocent people. I could never truly want Hermione dead. I'm afraid she's one of the few hopes we have left in righting this mad world of ours."

Harry had no response. His mind was overwhelmed by all of the doubts he now had concerning his memories. What had else he seen or heard that actually meant the opposite of what he always believed? The truth was suddenly such an ambiguous fantasy to him that he felt lost. To cover the discomfort that Draco's impromptu speech gave him, Harry nodded stiffly. "Well, let's carry on then."

Hermione sighed. "Becoming friends with Draco was actually easier than I had originally imagined…"

* * *

 _ **What do you think? Is it okay?**_


	3. For the Reasons You Think

**A/N: Third chapter, guys! It was this or write some inane essay for my comp class. Clearly, this won out! Hope you like it!**

* * *

 _Chapter Three_  
 _For the Reasons You Think_

To Hermione's great dismay, Madam Pomfrey had confined her to the hospital wing for the foreseeable future. Not that she terribly minded the stubborn old witch, but she did hate to miss her studies. And of course, she couldn't rely on Harry or Ron to think she would actually want them to bring her the work she was missing. So, there she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to move without feeling the fierce sting of the thousands of cuts across her body.

Pomfrey smiled sympathetically at her as she rushed past, her robes rippling in her wake. If only she had Hogwarts: A History. Then she could at least-

An awkward cough interrupted her train of thought. Her eyes flew to its owner.

Draco Malfoy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, eyes trained on the floor, hands clasped behind his back. She couldn't contain her surprise. "M-Malfoy?"

"As smart as you claim to be, surely you know my name by now," he snapped, his lip curling in distaste.

She was hardly affronted by his demeanor. "Oh, believe me, I am unfortunately all too aware of who you are. My surprise was merely for the fact that you're here. By my bed."

"Brilliant observation, Granger. Astounding, really."

She rolled her eyes, wincing as she tried to sit up. She collapsed back down, unable to stomach sitting up. She missed the flash of pity in her unexpected companion's eyes. "Listen, Malfoy," she sighed, exhaustion setting in, "As much as I hate admitting weakness, I'm really in no shape to argue with you today. So, just tell me why you're here, will you?"

He tried not to shrink under her gaze, unaware until that moment of how her honey brown eyes seemed to gaze right through him. Though they were struggling to remain open, her eyes were expectant. Shaken, he stepped forward and placed the work she had missed on the table beside her. Those sleepy brown eyes widened.

"McGonagall told me to bring this to you. Figured an insufferable know it all wouldn't be able to resist doing all her homework," Draco informed in a bored voice. He gave her no time to respond, instead spinning on his heel and briskly exiting the room. He only hoped she wouldn't ask her favorite teacher for confirmation. The last thing he needed was her to know that he'd taken it upon himself to collect all her missing work.

Merlin, what had happened to him?

"Draco," Pansy loudly whined in his ear. The boy jumped, not expecting the nasally voice in such a close proximity. Hand over his hammering heart, Draco whirled to glare at the girl. She ignored his peeved expression and sent him an innocent smile. He groaned internally. "You never spend time with me anymore!"

"Pansy," he sighed, slumping into his favorite arm chair. She gracefully sat herself on the loveseat across from him. She made a face when he propped his feet up on the coffee table between them. As much as he harped about pureblood society, he always acted like a mannerless git whenever it was just the two of them.

"Don't 'Pansy' me. I'm your best friend and you've hardly spent any time with me lately. I mean, you were supposed to meet up with me just last night! And you never showed!" she admonished. He bit his lip and shrugged absently, his mind elsewhere. He didn't see her lean over the coffee table to smack him upside the head.

"Hey!" he cried indignantly, rubbing his ear. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You stood me up last night and now you're not even paying attention!"

He frowned. "I was, er, held up last night."

"By what?" she questioned, not believing him.

Draco debated making up a lie but decided telling Pansy wouldn't hurt. "You heard that Granger's in the hospital wing?"

His friend gasped. "Draco! You didn't!"

"Hey, wait just one minute! Why did you automatically assume that I was the one that put her there?" Pansy blushed at his offended outburst. "I'll have you know that I was actually the one who found her. I brought her to Pomfrey last night. And then she called down Snape and McGonagall to deal with the situation. I didn't get back here until about 1:30."

"My hero," she sighed dreamily. She let out a happy bark of laughter at his unimpressed scowl. Ignoring the resentment in his steel grey eyes, she pinched his cheeks before he could slap her hands away. "Who knew Drakey would be Hermione Granger's knight in shining armor?" Pansy cooed in a baby voice.

The girl fell back as Draco shot out of his seat. Her giggles died away as she took in his tensed shoulders. "Draco?"

"I thought she was going to die, Pans." She let him speak without interrupting, hearing in his voice the need to think out loud. "There was so much blood…"

"But she's okay, right?" she wondered, suddenly worried for her friend's favorite target. The concern that suddenly fell upon her gave her a headache.

"It was red."

"What was?"

Draco finally turned to face her. Now, Pansy had known him since birth. She could read all his seemingly nonexistent facial expression. It was an art and she was a master of it. But she couldn't quite read the confused eyes, the bit lip, the wrinkled brows.

"Her blood."

Without another word, he whirled away and out the portrait.

888888888

"You're back."

Hermione eyed the blonde warily. He almost tried to duck back out the door at the last minute, but she spoke up before he could sneak away. Draco nodded stiffly and stepped forward. She couldn't get over how formal he looked for such a young boy. Despite the uncertainty in his eyes, he had his shoulders back, his chin up, his feet set squarely apart, his hands once again clasped behind his back. Such rigid formality in a 14 year old boy seemed wrong, but she couldn't say that it didn't make him look regal.

"It seems I am."

"Why?"

She was curious about his presence. He had saved her and brought her books to her when her own friends hadn't. Why would he subject himself to her presence? "I mean, I admit, it's nice to have some company, but I guess I never dreamed it would be you," she said honestly.

Draco frowned. "What about Scarhead and Weasel? Surely they've been in to see you." Anything to deflect the conversation off him.

The corners of her lips fell and she sighed, turning her head away from him. "I'm afraid not. They're rather busy at the moment."

"Busy!" he exclaimed without thinking, his formal air momentarily forgotten, "If you were Pansy, I'd refuse to leave your side! What the hell could they be so busy with?"

She merely blinked at his unexpected outburst. She knew that Pansy was always hovering around Draco, but she never gave much thought to the depth of their relationship. Weren't all Slytherins out for themselves? It was hard for her to gather her thoughts but she strung together a few words. "Well, they're just figuring some things out right now."

The brunette witch shrunk under his skeptical gaze. "What you mean to say is that ever since Potter got involved with the tournament, Weasel's been acting like a jealous fool, I think."

"Well," she began, thinking of how to defend her friends before sighing in defeat. "Yes. Yes, that's exactly right."

"Weasley's always an idiot, but everyone has noticed how much worse he's gotten since the tournament started. They shouldn't let that stop them from visiting you," he stated simply.

What was a girl to think about that? "Um, well, that's, er, nice of you to say, Malfoy?"

He shrugged it off, his gaze on the floor.

"So…you're still here."

He seemed startled, as if surprised by that fact. She hid a smile with her hand at how unexpectedly kind his surprise made him look. Much more approachable. "Why, yes, I am."

"Are you going to tell me why?" she pushed, fighting another smile. "Malfoy, I would almost say you're being shy."

"I am not _shy_ , Granger," he sneered. She rolled her eyes. _Boys_. "Well, if you insist on not explaining your presence and standing there awkwardly, you may as well sit down. Sitting up has gotten me tired again, so if I'm about to get comfy, you might do as well," she suggested innocently.

He watched in reserved fascination as she pulled her blanket up to her chin and curled into a ball. With a contented hum, she snuggled into her pillow. It struck him then. How human she was. Who was he to degrade the girl?

He took the seat beside her bed. If she was surprised to suddenly be staring at the Slytherin tie across from her she didn't show it.

"Why did you come to see me, Malfoy?" she wondered quietly. Her voice was somewhat muffled by the blanket.

"I-I don't rightly know, honestly. I mean, I know you're alright now, or that you will be. But…" he admitted with an honestly she could tell he was surprised by. He shook his head, troubled. "Shit, Granger. I thought you were going to die. I thought you were already dead."

Her brown eyes were thoughtful. "I-I thought I was going to, you know," she murmured, her voice distant. "When I realized what happened, before I passed out. I was so scared…"

He hated how her voice cracked. He hated that he wanted to comfort her. He hated her. Didn't he?

"Why did you save me?"

Her voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "What?"

"Why did you save me? You always talk about me dying or something killing me. Why save me?" She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, but even in the dim candle light she could it make him squirm.

"Granger, I-there was-I couldn't, okay? I couldn't not save you," he sighed. He absently tapped his fingers against his leg as he sought the right words. "I am spoiled, Granger. And I repeat everything my father does and says. But I never once wanted you dead. Not for any reason. I may be a foul, loathsome, little cockroach, but I would never want you dead."

His words were heavy. "Oh. But at the World Cup, you were so mean, telling me to-"

"Hide so they wouldn't find or hurt you?" Draco cut in coldly. Hermione paused, thinking about it. "If I had warned you in any other way you lot would never have believed it."

"Well, I guess you are right about that," she admitted softly.

She used the silence that engulfed them to take him in from a new perspective. He was draped carelessly across the chair, back slouched, one hand dangling off the chair's arm, the other still tapping, his legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed carelessly. It was such a different picture from just moments before that she had a hard time reconciling the two boys as the same person.

"Malfoy, I'm afraid I might ruin this weird little thing we have going on, but there's something that I have to ask you about."

The blonde sat up a little straighter, eyes cautious as he nodded for her to go on. She fiddled with the blanket in her fingers to distract herself from the charcoal eyes gazing at her. "Madam Pomfrey told me that you were the one who brought me here. That was surprising enough. But it was something about how she said it that really threw me. She, well, she said that you carried me." Hermione risked a glance over at Draco to find that his eyes were locked firmly on her. Cheeks flaming red, even in the near darkness, she questioned, "I just-you carried me. Not levitated or anything but carried me. I was bleeding so badly, and it must have been everywhere. You've made your beliefs very clear. What I can't wrap my head around is that you willing touched me. Me, the bleeding Mudblood! I mean, what possessed you to do that?"

If she thought it had been silent before, it was nothing compared to the absence of sound that followed her questions. He was so still she feared even breathing to loudly would frighten him off. She hadn't a clue what made herself ask such a ridiculous question. This was going to be a disaster, she just knew it. The witch's cheeks burned as she buried her embarrassed face in her pillow.

"Would you believe me, Granger," his low voice was nearly her undoing, "If I said I don't actually hate you? At least not for the reasons you might think?"

She braved pulling her face out of the pillow and towards him. The girl jumped back a little, not prepared to find him so close. He had leaned forward, his arms braced on his legs, grey eyes but inches from hers.

"W-what?"

"I hated you, Granger, from nearly the moment I saw you. It wasn't, of course, clear why until I was informed that you were a Mu- _of your blood status_. It was only natural. But then, you defied every stereotype of a Mud- _Muggleborn_ that my father ingrained in my head. You're smarter than all of us, you're always the first to figure out the spells, the teachers love you, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived is your best friend. You took my beliefs and you poked holes in them. And I took it out on you in the worst ways. All those vile words, Granger, were just my anger that you weren't what I had always been told you'd be. I suddenly doubted my father and I hated that. So I hated you for it instead. And last year, with that stupid bloody bird, I knew I was wrong. But I am a prideful boy, so I didn't care. Until, that is, you made me feel so damn guilty. That punch woke me up, and I hated you for that, too."

He fell silent for a moment and she wasn't about to break it. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. She was mesmerized when he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. No one had ever seen a disheveled Malfoy, and it was a sight to behold.

"And that night. That night I found you was hell for me. It never crossed my mind not to save you, but I took my time doing it. But when I found that note, Granger…and to think that someone did that to you because of something like your blood. It just-It destroyed me. Granger, your blood is as red as the rest of ours. So I carried you. You're no different from us after all. And for that, for making everything I ever believed in a complete farce, I hate you."

Clearly, what she had been expecting in response to her question hadn't been so earth shattering. So dumbfounded, all she managed to spit out was, "Jesus, Malfoy, I've never heard you string more than two sentences together."

At that, he smiled.

He _smiled_.

* * *

"Ew, Malfoy, you actually smile?"

" _Harry_!"

* * *

 **A/N: I hope it was realistic enough for you! I have no idea where Pansy came from, but I'm so tired of reading stories where she's this whiny, clingy idiot. I'd like to think that there were real friendships amongst the Slytherins, so I thought I'd show it. Let me know if you like it please! :)**


	4. You Don't Have Henchmen

**_A/N: Two chapters in ONE day, my goodness! Haven't done that in forever!_**

* * *

 _Chapter Four_  
 _You Don't Have Henchmen_

And thus began the timid friendship of a reluctant snake and a wary lion.

Hermione found herself bemused every night at the telltale flutter of the curtain around her bed. He'd come enough nights in a row now for her to know that he hovered on the other side for a few minutes before sighing and crossing over to the chair beside her bed. His internal debate soothed rather than aggravated her. Too dramatic a change in the boy would alert her to something suspicious. His honest hesitation and reluctance in joining assured her that this was no ploy to humiliate her.

"Hey there, ferret," she greeted cheerily. While he narrowed his eyes warningly and scoffed rudely, Draco was pleased to see the Gryffindor slowly returning to her usually peppy state. It grated on his more reserved personality, but he also found it oddly endearing.

He could never explain to her why he had come back every night since he admitted to her destroying his delicate, superficial world. Draco knew he should have been furious, hated her more even. But every night found him beside the girl he always swore to hate.

She couldn't explain why her heart fluttered whenever he took the chair by her bed any more than she explain why he was there. Yet, Hermione didn't mind. She looked forward to their talks.

"Please, I'm begging you. Tell me what I'm missing out there! I've been here for nearly two weeks now, it's killing me," she cried dramatically, throwing herself across her bed in fake distress. Draco rolled his eyes to show his amusement.

"The whole castle is falling to pieces without you, Granger," he informed her in a mournful voice. The said witch childishly stuck her tongue out at his following words. "I mean, with no insufferable know-it-all practically falling out of her chair to answer all the questions, us mere mortals are forced to do it instead."

"I'm not that bad," Hermione tried to argue. She let out a laugh when she took in Draco's blonde eyebrow raised in disagreement. "Okay, so I am. Sorry I like to know things."

"I like to know things, too, Granger. Yet, you don't see me falling all over myself to answer every damn question," he said.

Their banter continued for the next hour or so. After the initial awkwardness of the first few nights, having been enemies for the previous three years, they made a surprisingly good pair.

Hermione really didn't know much about the boy other than he was the prejudiced git who taught her what the word Mudblood meant. But after the first night, she realized there was so much under the surface that he never let anyone know about. And she couldn't wait to drag it out of him. Draco had known she was smart, after all, who didn't? What he didn't know was that her wit was deadly sharp and her sense humor, while slightly off, was brilliant. He didn't get away with a single comment without some intellectual insult or praise in response. All their previous conversations were traded insults, and as such, their new conversations still remained much the same.

"So, tell me, ferretface, don't your friends wonder where you go every night. I mean, aren't Crabbe and Goyle worried?" His murderous expression at the nickname had her smiling devilishly.

"Friends?" Draco echoed in disbelief, choosing to ignore the ferret comment for a moment. "Crabbe and Goyle are more like my henchmen than they are friends."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy, you're 14, you don't have _henchmen_."

"I _do_ so have henchmen, Granger!" he cried indignantly. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, Malfoy, don't pout."

"Malfoys do not pout, thank you," he snapped irritably. Merlin, she knew how to get under his skin.

She gave him a look.

"Fine. We pout. Loads," he scowled. Under his breath, he muttered, "Can't even let a man pretend to keep his dignity."

Hermione bit back a blossoming smile. She was softening the frigid Malfoy and she loved it.

"But really," Hermione turned serious, "you're always bragging about Slytherins being so cunning and ambitious and all that nonsense."

"It's not nonsense!" Draco cried indignantly. She shushed him. Bless him and that Malfoy pout. She couldn't contain her giggles as she watched him realize he was pouting and try to stop without her noticing. "Oh, quit your giggling, you mental Gryffindork."

"Malfoys don't pout," she mocked in imitation of him. His glare was legendary. "I do _not_ sound like that, Granger!"

"So, Slytherin," Hermione began again. "You all make it sound like you haven't got friends, like you've allies or something instead. And I've never talked this much to a Slytherin before, let alone the poster boy for them. So, tell me, is that true. Do you guys really not have people you consider actual friends?"

"Oh, enough with the pity. We aren't friendless losers. God, you sound like a bloody Hufflepuff," Draco admonished. "We do have actual friends, thank you. We're just not as obnoxious as you Gryffindors are."

"Crabbe and Goyle, then. While they are not your henchmen-no, shut it, you don't have henchmen-would you really consider them friends?" she wondered curiously, having to scold him halfway through her question. He sighed and crossed his arms. She folded her legs and leaned forward.

"No, I wouldn't really. Their fathers and mine are good…allies, I guess. So, they just follow me around. We certainly don't talk about much to each other. I can't say I know all that much about them. Pansy, on the other hand, she's actually a friend. Hey, don't give me that look. Until two weeks ago, you thought I was a spineless, bigoted prick, and look how utterly fabulous I turned out to be! You'd never know that Pansy is actually a sweet girl."

"Malfoy, who said I _used_ to think that?" Hermione teased, the corner of her lip twitching upwards into a smile.

He reached forward and grabbed one of her outrageous curls. He pulled it down gently before releasing it, watching in fascination as it sprung back into place. Her teasing smile had vanished, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst through her chest. It was such a simple action, yet it was so intimate. It screamed how comfortable they had gotten, that he had done it without thinking, and that she had let him.

Suddenly aware of what he had just done, she watched as the telltale crimson blush colored his pale cheeks. She stared at him in wonder. He cleared his throat, refusing to look at her, and continued, "As I was saying…You _used_ to think I was a spineless, bigoted jerk, etc, but I'm less of that now. And though, Pansy seems, well, bitchy, on the surface, she's really not. We're quite close."

"You call her Pansy, not Parkinson?" she observed a little breathlessly. His grey eyes finally met hers, his brow scrunched in confusion. "Obviously, she's my friend."

"Then, I think you should call me Hermione, not Granger."

Her bold tone made him smile. There was the Granger he'd been waiting for. He knew she couldn't stay down forever. Then her words sunk in.

"What?"

She blushed and became very interested in her folded hands. "I was thinking. You've come by every day now for a while. And we've had some great talks, you've been really nice. Nice like a…friend."

"So, you don't want me to call you Granger anymore because you think we're friends now?" He threw her idea back at her to clarify. Draco didn't realize the significance of his word choice until he saw the hurt flash across her sweet face. He shot forward in his chair and, without thinking, grabbed her folded hands in his. Startled by the contact, she gazed down at him with an unfathomable expression.

"That's not what I meant, Granger. That sounded awful. What I meant was, does this mean that we're friends?" he rushed to explain.

The blonde would never understand how expressive her face could be. He could actually see as the defeated sadness melted away into an innocent delight.

"Of course, you goof. I was hoping, anyway," she admitted with a happy smile. A smile reserved just for him. Then some doubt crept its way in. "Unless, of course, you don't really want that."

Draco squeezed her hands once before pulling his hand back into his lap.

"I've spent three years of my life utterly despising you, but I think I could up for being friends instead." He attempted to shrug it off as if it were nothing, but the both of them knew it was anything but. It was the total admission of wrongness from a prejudiced boy. The shedding of the beliefs he had held for all his life. And it all came down to the moment that shortly followed.

"Well, goodnight, then," Hermione yawned as she fell back into her pillows. Draco nodded as he stood to go. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Draco paused and turned back to her with a secret smirk gracing his lips. "I'm afraid it's going to be rather hard for you to get rid of me now, _Hermione_."

She could live without one or two heartbeats, couldn't she?

* * *

"Thank Merlin, Hermione, glad to see you back where you belong," a friendly voice greeted her as the small girl made her way through the Gryffindor Tower portrait. "Aye, we were rather missing our favorite bookworm. Aw, look at that Gred, she's blushing!"

And blushing she was. The Weasley twins had taken a fancy to the young girl especially after the World Cup. And after seeing how Harry and Ron were putting her between them. As frustrated with them as she often was, she adored their attention. They were the older brothers she never had.

"It's so good to see you boys! Although, you might have come visited me!" she scolded, a little disappointed in their failure to see her. After they attacked her with hugs and sloppy kisses to her scarlet cheeks, the stepped back and had the sense to look sheepish.

"Wull, we tried to see you the day after it happened-"

"But then, Pomfrey went mental when she saw it was us-"

"Like we'd blow the place up again or something-"

"I mean, honestly, it was only a very minor explosion-"

"Hardly any physical damage to anyone-"

"And yet she still won't let us anywhere near the hospital wing anymore-"

"Distrustful bat, Pomfrey is."

Hermione, now more than used to their back and forth manner, followed their explanation with an amused smile on her lips. "I don't even want to know what you did to get banned from the hospital wing, but I'll have you know I was fine without you." They exchanged a look at her secret smile, but thought better than to pry. "I had some excellent company. Now, what have I missed?"

And so when Harry finally trudged through the portrait door, shoulders slumped in defeat, he found one of his best friends fast in a Weasley twin sandwich fast asleep. The twins were bickering about something in low tones, presumably the leprechaun gold mess, while Hermione slept on, curled up against Fred.

Not expecting such an intimate scene between his friend and the twins, Harry fell to a halt in front of them, one dark eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Hullo, Harry. Hermione was waiting for you and Ronnykins to get back-"

"But she was tired as anything you see. Soon as we sat down-"

"She was out cold. Hasn't moved in a good two hours and-"

"My bum is completely numb, thanks for asking," Fred finished with a wolfish grin. He gently shook Hermione's shoulder. She jumped with a start, her bush of curls a wild mess. George reached over and attempted to smooth it down only to have her smack his hands away. Chuckling, both boys held their hands up in surrender, letting her wobble to her feet.

"Oh. Harry," she said in surprise, having only just noticed him. She grabbed her bag off the floor where she left it, amazed how tired she still was. She made for her stairs, dreaming of finally sleeping in her own bed again. Harry trailed after her. "Hermione."

She turned at the sound of his voice, a pleasant smile on her face, though her eyes shouted exhaustion.

Green eyes observed her. "Since when are you so close to Fred and George?"

His accusing tone set her on edge.

"Since they've been the ones trying to cheer me up as you and Ron seem to think it's alright to take your anger at each other out on me. Now, goodnight."

He stared at her retreating form, guilt clawing at him. Another tough day under his belt. Great.

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but wonder what her first day back would bring. She wasn't terribly nervous about returning, after all, she'd missed ages of school when she'd been petrified. She was, naturally, ahead in her school work. The only unsettling thing was a certain blonde Slytherin.

Surely, he wouldn't walk over to the Gryffindor table, sit down, and eat breakfast with her, but she wondered about what he would actually do. Her insecurities told her that it was simply a fluke. There was no way he would actually want to be friends. And even if he did, he wouldn't be inclined to announce it, would he?

Her nerves were for nothing. He was a pompous ass and she couldn't understand how she let herself forget that.

"Oh look, Draco, its Granger. She's back," a nameless Slytherin informed the blonde. He turned to Hermione with a vicious sneer. "What a shame, Granger, I rather hoped someone had finally offed you. I suppose even killing Potter's mudblood would dirty someone so badly they couldn't be bothered to finish the job."

Her mouth hung open incredulously. Even her incredible willpower couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

"Aw, don't cry, Granger, I'm sure someone will get around to it sooner than later," Draco laughed cruelly, his followers joining in before sauntering off.

She knew it had been too good to be true. It was all just one big joke to him. Distraught, she turned heel and abandoned the Great Hall. Sniffling pitifully, Hermione shrieked in terror when a hand latched around her arm and pulled her behind a tapestry.

"Ow, ow, would you calm yourself, you crazy bint. Quit hitting me," a familiar voice demanded. She paused her frantic flailing arms until she recognized the voice and made his face out in the dim light. And she promptly resumed punching him anywhere she could reach.

Shielding himself the best he could, Draco grunted, "Alright, I guess I deserve it."

"Deserve it?" she yelled, "You bloody bastard! I cannot believe I let myself think you were anything but that foul, loathsome cockroach!"

She was dangerously close to biting him as he risked slapping a hand over her mouth. "Shut it, would you? People will come looking."

Her narrowed eyes were killing him in thousands of horribly creative ways, he could just tell. His shoulders slumped. "I just wanted to get you alone. I need to apologize."

While she still seemed wary, she stopped struggling.

"You have to know after these past two weeks that none of what I said was true. I mean, just last night, you said we were friends. I want that, I really do. But I hadn't thought about what that would really mean when you got better. I just saw you there and everyone was telling me you were back and I panicked. Merlin, I wasn't even that terrible before, I don't know where it came from. Every word tasted vile in my mouth, and I wish I could just take them back, Hermione."

He dropped his hand from her mouth and stepped back, once again running his hands through his hair. His hands were shaking and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. He looked positively wretched. It made her feel a little better.

"You called me Hermione."

He glanced over at her sheepishly. "I'm trying out the whole friend thing. If you're still willing."

She mulled him over. "Alright. But I swear to Merlin, Draco, if you ever say anything that vile to me in front of anyone ever again I will make sure everyone knows that you're terrified of Pygmy Puffs."

"You wouldn't," he scoffed, though his eyes were not as confident as his voice. He feared the smirk on her face. It almost trumped the thrill he got from hearing his name on her lips. Almost.

"Watch me."

"My dear girl, I dare say you'd have made a fine Slytherin."

* * *

Draco frowned at the scrap of parchment in his hand. Becoming friends with Hermione Granger was more than enlightening. With a roll of his eyes, he sent back his reply to her clever drawing.

* * *

Hermione smiled to herself at the magical paper airplane that landed on her desk. Lavender, who sat beside her, cooed, begging to know who it was from. She made up a lie about it being from some Beauxbaton girl she met in the infirmary. The girl's disappointed smile told Hermione she wasn't at all surprised by its boring nature.

Sure she wasn't looking, Hermione unfolded it. Sprawling cursive in green ink was neatly inscribed above her picture.

 _Slytherin indeed, my Gryffindork, a fine Slytherin indeed._

Below his words was a finely, if she did say so herself, drawn cartoon of Draco girlishly batting away a fluffy pink Pygmy Puff in utter terror.

From across the potion's room, she felt grey eyes on her. Biting her lip, she risked a glance over at him. A minuscule shake of the head told her he wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

* * *

 **A/N: Fred and George are seriously some of my favorite characters and I just had to throw them in there! Please let me know what you think of this so far!**


	5. So It Seems

_**A/N: Hey, there! Finally got time to write again!**_

Chapter Five

 _So It Seems_

"Wait," Harry paused the storytelling. Hermione and Draco shared a look and waited for him to continue. "You mean to tell me that the past three years, all the insults and dirty looks were fake?"

Hermione had the grace to blush and nodded sheepishly. "Sort of. I actually got to be quite fun for a while there." She turned to the blonde beside her, sweet smile directed at him. "Oh, Draco, do you remember how we used to plan out insults and comebacks on those nights in the Astronomy tower?"

Before he could respond, Harry cried out, "That was _fun_ for you?"

"Well, we had to get creative after a while. It got harder and harder to insult each other, so we helped each other do it," Hermione explained, not really caring how strange it sounded.

Harry shook his head, rubbing his scar absently. "I don't even know what to say to that."

Draco finally spoke up, though his voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Right, we've established that our relationship is odd. Just please, let me sit, will you?"

The two Gryffindors only then took notice of Draco's state. His grip on Hermione's hand had weakened, his adrenaline from chasing Hermione depleting rapidly. It wouldn't be right to say that the color had gone from his face, as there had been none to begin with, but he looked like he was about to hit the floor. Before he could, he was rescued by the arms of a Gryffindor. Though, not the ones he might have hoped.

Harry had seen the boy start to sway dangerously and caught him without a thought. Seriously regretting the life choices that had led to holding Malfoy in his arms, Harry patiently helped him back to his bed. His skin was damp with cold sweat, and once again, Harry wished the floor would swallow him up. Malfoy tried to gracefully lower himself onto his back but collapsed with the strain of it. Hermione perched herself on the bed beside him and brushed her fingers over his cheek, murmuring words of concern.

Draco, secretly delighting in her attention after so long without her, weakly batted her hand away. "I'm fine, I'm fine, woman. Honestly. You'd think I'd just been attacked by a bloody hippogriff," he scoffed somewhat playfully.

"Well, you would know what that would feel like, wouldn't you, Malfoy?" Harry couldn't resist.

His question was met with a blank stare. "I'm afraid that isn't part of the story we were telling, Potter."

Harry shot back an innocent smile before sitting on the chair by his bed. "So, you became secret friends? What then?"

"Well, you and Ron obviously made up after the first task. And Ron was an unbearable idiot about the Yule Ball." Draco laced his fingers through Hermione's when he took notice of the frown marring her formerly happy face. Harry watched as Hermione's smile instantly returned. _How could he have missed this?_

"The Yule Ball. Krum asked me, and so I went with him."

It was hard to miss the dark look that flashed across Draco's face. That, at least, was something he and Harry agreed upon.

"Ah, yes, Krum."

"But what you probably don't know is that Fred and George were pretty much the masterminds behind my appearance at the ball. They were like Fairy Godmothers, Harry." Her soft laugh warmed the hearts of her male companions.

"And I, her prince charming," Draco cut in dramatically. Hermione rolled her eyes but leaned down to kiss his cheek. He followed her retreat with utter adoration in his eyes.

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid. Nearly, though."

"I'm going to ignore that particularly disturbing interaction and go back to what you said before. Fairy godmothers?"

* * *

"There's our favorite lioness, Georgie!" Fred exclaimed in relief when he entered the common room. George bounded in after him, eager to see the brunette. She had been missing since the previous evening when she had given them a verbal harassing nearly as terrifying as their mother's. She simply didn't understand the revenge game.

The deliriously happy mood that usually came with the pair of Weasley's became immediately somber when the twins took in the young girl's state. She was curled in on herself, her arms wrapped around the knees drawn to her chest. She sank so deep into the ostentatiously large couch that she seemed even smaller than usual. With a shared look that communicated so much more than words ever could, the boys jumped into action.

"But what is this?" Fred wondered dramatically, "Yon maiden so sad and so fair."

"What say you, dearest brother of mine? What say ye of yon sad maiden?" George asked.

"What say I, brother?" Fred exclaimed excitably, pretending not to notice Hermione's attention. "I say that yon maiden's beauty, that of a goddess, that of an enchantress; a beauty that begs the envy of Aphrodite herself, blinding in its ethereal-"

"My God, Fred. Just shut it, will you?" Hermione snapped. The boys' ridiculous grins fell at the sharp tone. With a sigh, George flopped down beside her. Fred perched himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. She glared at the both of them stubbornly as they demanded to know what was wrong.

Fed up with their incessant questions, she finally shouted, "Fine! If you want to know so badly, ask your idiot brother!"

"Ickle Ronnykins?" Fred wondered.

"What did he do?"

Hermione curled up against George, finally accepting the comforting arm he wrapped around her. She watched a dangerous expression cross over the usually carefree Fred as she explained what Ron had said.

"He doesn't even think of me as a girl!" she cried in disbelief. "I know I'm no fun, and that I'm no one's fantasy crush but honestly. I still thought it was rather obvious that, despite that, I am still, in fact, a girl."

"Well, we knew pickle Ronnykins was no genius, but you're right, Hermione. He is a blithering idiot for not noticing what a beautiful witch was in front of him," George agreed. With a glance at his twin who had been uncharacteristically quiet, George, for once, could not tell what Fred was thinking. But he knew that twinkle in his eyes. Oh, Merlin, did he know that twinkle.

"Hermione, dear," Fred began in a curious voice, "What was that story again? With the ball and the glass slipper?"

Both Hermione and George eyed him suspiciously. "Cinderella," she answered after a second of hesitation.

Fred beamed. "Well, then, Miss Cinderelli-"

"Cinderell-A, Fred, honestly-"

"Hush. You know everything. _We know_. Now shut it while I extravagantly present my offer to you, woman. Merlin's sake," Fred admonished. "Now, be a good little bookworm and shut your eyes, will you?"

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, Hermione closed them. She felt George rise to his feet and her eyes flew open in fright when she heard him angrily shout, "Oi, what the hell are you on about, Fred!"

It was truly a special kind of magic to see how delightfully happy some simple Transfiguration could make someone. Hermione had never laughed so hard in her entire life. It was a memory to be forever cherished.

George, face redder than a tomato, stood before her, arms folded across his chest, clad in a frilly, pink monstrosity of a dress with a beautiful set of fairy wings fluttering madly behind him. His mirror image was beaming at his unimpressed brother in a matching blue dress with his own pair of fairy wings.

"What is even happening?" Hermione managed to wheeze out between peals of laughter.

"We're going to be your fairy godmothers, of course!" Fred exclaimed gleefully, shooting sparkles into the air to emphasize his point. "We'll make sure Ron knows exactly what a girl you are, Hermione! Now, I'm thinking periwinkle…"

* * *

It displeased Draco to see Hermione so upset over the Weasel's blatant disregard of her feminine nature. Anyone who didn't see it had to be blind. Or Weasely.

And the hurt only grew when she admitted she had a date. He had not been overjoyed by any means.

"Who are you taking to the ball, Draco?" Hermione wondered curiously as they wandered down the hall. The blonde sighed. "Pansy, who else?"

"Pansy?"

Draco smirked at her tone. "She really is quite nice if you know her as well as I do. She's like a sister to me."

"If you say so," Hermione said doubtfully. Her lack of faith in his friends didn't bother him in the slightest. He was lucky she was even putting up with him, he shouldn't be concerned whether or not she liked his friends. He certainly wasn't fond of hers.

"I do say so. And you? Who's taking Gryffindor's number one bookworm to the ball?" He had assumed she had a date. What he did not expect was how much it bothered him when she confirmed his suspicions.

She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Draco teased, poking the suddenly shy Hermione in the ribs. With a surprised shriek, she jumped away from him. "Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly. Her heart warmed at his innocent smile. She knew it wasn't really innocent, but it was a real smile and it changed Draco completely. He caught her look and raised a questioning eyebrow. "What's with the look?"

Realizing she'd been caught staring, Hermione blushed and offered a shrug in response. "Nothing, it's just…I like it when you smile."

Draco's smug smirk was wiped right off his face. "You do?"

"Of course, silly," the witch stated as if it were obvious. "I've known you since we were 11 and the first time I saw you smile, really smile, was just a few weeks ago. So, yes. I do quite like it when you smile."

Not sure how to react to such an honest statement, Draco did exactly what he was about to playfully accuse her of. "Hey, no fair, you distracted me into changing the subject! What a closet Slytherin you are, Miss Granger. So, who's the lucky guy?"

"Oh, um, someone from Durmstrang," Hermione said casually.

"Durmstrang?" he echoed, surprised. "They seem so…dark for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

Backtracking before her infamous temper made an appearance, he ex, "I only mean that you're so…sweet and gentle, I guess. The guys from Durmstrang seem more like they're about brawns than brains. Rather a rough lot, if you ask me. I suppose I expected you to end up with someone from Ravenclaw, not those baddies from Bulgaria."

At that, Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. "B-baddies, Draco? Are you five?" she teased, receiving a scowl in return. "And anyway, by that logic, what on Earth am I doing meeting Draco Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower after curfew, hmm?"

Draco had the grace to look sheepish. "Fine, fine. I suppose I'm not allowed to judge."

The two sighed as they gazed out at the star splattered sky. The grounds were blanketed in a blackness that can only accompany the night, a faint glow marking Hagrid's hut. Hermione watched their icy breaths furl into the darkness as they stood in silence.

"You'll hate me," she said finally.

Draco snorted. "I do believe I already have. And it didn't work out that well in the end."

"Krum," Hermione blurted. "It's Krum who's asked me."

Draco turned to the witch in disbelief. She was slumped over the wall, biting her lower lip, eyes uncertain. She let loose a heavy sigh and pulled herself upright with some obvious effort.

Krum? She was going with Krum? He wasn't sure why that made his blood boil, but Merlin, did it. It wasn't as though he could have asked her. And would he have, if he could? Maybe. Just maybe.

"K-Krum? Merlin, Hermione. That's not a step up from Weasley, that's a bloody mountain!" As it wasn't, and never would be his place to take her, he may as well make her feel good about herself.

The brunette shrugged. "He follows me around everywhere. And he just sits there and watches me study. Doesn't talk, doesn't want to do anything. And Draco…he can't even pronounce my name!"

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "Why did you say yes, then?" He shouldn't have felt relieved that she didn't actually fancy the Quidditch star.

"It's going to sound terrible. Like I'm really shallow…"

"You're talking to a Malfoy. We're as deep as puddles. Honestly, Hermione, know your audience," Draco scoffed playfully. He delighted in the amusement that danced in her hazel eyes.

"I suppose that's true enough. Well, he asked me, and I thought of saying no. But then I saw it as a way to shock everyone. No one ever sees me as anything but an insufferable know-it-all bookworm. I am that, but I'm a girl, too. Not that Ronald seems to realize that. I just wanted to show them that I could be wanted, I guess. That I could be worth wanting."

The blonde wasn't sure they'd been friends long enough for him to share his insight on such a personal desire. He took a risk and tried anyway. "Hermione, of course you're worth wanting. You don't need a famous date to show that."

Hermione smiled to herself. "Why did you have to be such a right tosser these past few years, Draco? You've hardly been my friend for two months and yet you already know how to make me feel better than any else ever has."

"There you go doubting the loving nature of Slytherins again."

"And there's the tosser."

* * *

He had to admit, when Hermione had first explained Cinderella and her fairy godmother, only to tell him about her own experience with the Weasley twins, he had his doubts. Draco was willing to admit that he didn't hate those particular Weasley's. How could anyone, really? But he certainly didn't think that they would be very successful 'fairy godmothers'. After all, what could two 16 year old boys know about dressing up a girl?

But he refrained from pointing out the likelihood of them being utterly useless in such a situation when he saw how excited she was about it.

For once in his life, Draco was willing to admit his complete and utter wrongness about the Weasley twins' abilities as the champions entered the Great Hall with their dates.

At the sight of the gorgeous girl on Krum's arm, Draco forgot how to breathe. Pansy actually smacked him. "What's wrong with you? You look like you're about to pass out." He shot her a warning glare and tried not to stare at the Gryffindor bookworm too noticeably.

His efforts seemed not to have mattered. Judging by the excited whispers and curious stares, he was the only one who had recognized her yet.

They did eventually notice her, though.

"Drake, is that Hermione Granger with Krum?" Pansy whispered in disbelief, tugging on the sleeve of his dress robes. Draco was already openly staring at the said witch. "Draco!" Pansy exclaimed, pulling him out of his ogling. "What, Pansy?" he asked irritably. Seeing Krum's hands all over his newfound Gryffindor friend was antagonizing him, and he didn't want to think about why. He had decided that it was the age gap between them. That it was improper for Krum to go after a girl four years his junior.

"Is that absolute babe on Krum's arm really Hermione Granger?" she wondered again. The incredulous Slytherin looked at him expectantly. Perhaps too defensively, Draco snapped, "How should I know, Pans? It's not like I keep track of the m-mudblood."

Pansy cut him a fierce glare. "Oh, spare me, Draco."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he retorted.

"You've only been staring at her all bloody night! I mean, if I had actually meant to come as your date as more than friends, I would be rather put out, Draco. In fact, I actually am a little put out as it is," Pansy accused him, crossing her arms in an irritated huff. "Sure, you've been dancing with me all night, Drake, but you haven't been here. Not with me. You've been too busy pretending not to be staring at her."

"I-I-what are you-I-"

"Merlin, look at you!" Pansy giggled, all traces of annoyance gone from her face. Her dark eyes twinkled with mirth. "She's got you all flustered, Drakey!"

Scowling darkly, Draco muttered his response through clenched teeth. "I have no idea what you're on about Parkinson. I admit, the m-mublood looks…less bookwormish but-"

"You're not fooling me, Drake. You can't even say that word without stuttering now. I know you, Drake. Something's different where she's concerned. I can't say I understand it, but don't lie to me, okay?" Pansy said softly so no one could listen in. Draco gaped at her, forgetting his pureblood composure.

Before he could respond, he caught the girl in question's voice. The two Slytherins turned in time to see a ridiculously dressed Ronald Weasely berating one of his supposed best friends. They winced as Hermione darkly raged, "Next time there's a ball pluck up the courage to ask me before someone else does! And not as a last resort!"

Without waiting for a response, the wounded but beautiful Hermione stormed from the Great Hall, her buffoon of a ginger friend fuming after her.

Draco followed her flustered retreat forgetting that he was trying to throw Pansy off the scent. "Go, then." He looked to her in confusion. "Go on, Draco. Something tells me she wouldn't be terribly put out if you happened to follow her."

Draco thought about denying but decided it wasn't worth it. He made to leave, only pausing when he felt Pansy's hand on his shoulder. She gazed up at him with a serious face. In a low voice, she said, "Drake. We're going to talk about this later, okay?"

He leaned down to kiss her cheek, knowing he had a dreadfully uncomfortable conversation in his near future. "Thanks, Pans." And with that, he maneuvered his way through the crowd and slipped out into the hall.

Draco found her on the stairs. She was a vision of sorrow, her periwinkle dress rippling over each stair, her shaking shoulders, her haphazardly thrown heels. Something inside him ached to see her so distraught. Checking to be sure she was alone, he stepped out from the shadows and softly called her name.

Her sobs paused. Blinking through her tears, she realized who the owner of the voice was. He seemed unsure of himself, hovering a distance from her as if he didn't know if he should be there. With a strangled cry, she picked herself off of the floor, dashed down the remaining steps, and launched herself into his arms. He staggered back at her sudden weight and his arms hung limp at his sides. The warmth of her body was so foreign and yet so intoxicatingly distracting that it took a minute for him to wrap his arms around her in return.

They had never been so close. There were playful hits and reassuring hands on shoulders and brushing fingers but never this. Never so tangled up in each other that they didn't care where one started and the other begin. Her nose was cold against the crook of his neck, but he couldn't care less. His body was humming with satisfaction because it was his arms she was wrapped up in. His comfort that she sought.

Hermione's sobs eventually quieted into silent tears. She felt much better and she wasn't foolish enough to think it wasn't because of Draco. She didn't want him to let her go. As soon as she stopped crying she just knew he would. It was silly, she realized, throwing herself at him because she was upset. At that point, though, with his warm hands on the small of her back, she decided she didn't care. It had been worth it.

"Hermione, what happened?" he murmured in her ear, his hold on her solid.

"Boys are idiots," she explained in a mix between a laugh and a sob. Hermione's eyes widened in awe as she felt rather than heard his chuckle. "Thanks. But you're right. We are."

"You're hugging me, Draco," she observed breathlessly, amazed that he still was. He tightened his hold on her at her words. "So, it seems."

"He was right, you know. I am a traitor. Just not in the way he thinks. The enemy I'm fraternizing with is you, not Krum."

"Thank God for that."

"Hey, Victor is a nice boy."

"Boy? He's four years older than you, Hermione. He's too old."

"And what would you have had me do? Prove everyone right and go alone as sad, pathetic Hermione?"

"No. If I could have it my way, Hermione, I think I would have asked you myself."

"You? Why?"

"Well, as it turns out, you're rather easy on the eyes. And intriguing in conversation. And uplifting to be around."

"Draco. You're still hugging me."

"So it seems."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't rather be doing anything else, Granger. Now shut it before I change my mind."

* * *

"Kill me now," Harry pleaded, "You two are unbearably corny."

* * *

 _ **A/N: If you like it please let me know! :)**_


	6. Right You Are

**_A/N: Ahhh, finally! Another chapter! Sorry for kind of abandoning this for a while. I started The Truth Down Under and never expected to get so carried away with writing it. I just couldn't stop even though it meant neglecting this story. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read all my stories, it means the absolute world to me! Hope you like this chapter!_**

 _Chapter Six_  
 _Right You Are_

"Right you are, Potter," a new voice agreed, "I've been dealing with their unbearably sappy selves on my own for far too long. I suppose it's about ready to have an addition to my club of one."

Draco groaned for an entirely new reason.

"Merlin, it's two in the morning. Haven't you got anything better to do?" he complained, covering his face with his arm. Heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks as the judging eyes met her with a harsh glare. "Pansy," she greeted in a flat voice. "Always a delight."

Pansy Parkinson nodded in recognition of the greeting. She tucked a loose strand of her shoulder length black hair behind her ear, eyeing over a startled Harry. "I see that boy wonder here has finally been clued in. Certainly took you long enough."

"Well, sort of. We're working on that right now," Hermione admitted quietly, wary of the girl. Draco's friend had always made her a little anxious, even when they were on good terms. She had never been able to read her quite as well as Draco and that had never sat well with her.

Pansy sidled closer out of the shadows she'd been hiding in. She was donning her Slytherin cloak, though it was open to reveal her green silk pajamas. The emerald of the shimmering fabric reflected Harry's wide eyes. "So, what's this? Have you two made up or something?" Her disinterested tone was contradicted by the hopeful gleam in her eye. Hermione and Draco shared a small, satisfied smile that had her squealing.

Hermione released a pained moan not unlike Draco's when the cold Slytherin girl tackled her with a fierce hug. Draco cried out in annoyance as the hugging girls toppled over his legs. Harry had to sit down.

"Finally!" Pansy cried, still clinging to Hermione. "I mean, I'm still raving mad that you hurt my best friend, but at the same time, I've missed you terribly!"

Hermione gave the girl a squeeze before releasing her. An apologetic frown had weighed down her lips as she met Pansy's gaze. "I'm so awful, Pans. I regretted everything as soon as I said it, but I didn't know how to take it back. I never wanted to hurt either of you. But I was in shock, I was scared, and I took it out on the two of you."

"Oh, what a mess we are," Pansy sighed, hugging Hermione again. Draco rolled his eyes at their girly behavior but couldn't hold it against them. He knew he hadn't been the only one hurting without Hermione's bubbly presence. "Guess not that much has changed, huh?"

Harry, who had been struck dumb by the friendly display between the two girls, finally managed to speak. All attention was trained on him as he asked, "I had a hard enough time believing her and him get along. How did you involve Pansy Parkinson?"

* * *

The Slytherin common room was quiet as usual, the first years cowering in their rooms while the older students sat studying separately. Pansy was tucked comfortably in the loveseat that had the best view of the portrait door. Draco had managed to avoid her quite successfully since the Yule Ball and that only piqued her curiosity more. The only reason he would be dodging her would be if he had something to hide. She was the only person he ever remotely opened up to, so she knew when something was up with him.

As a Slytherin, Pansy was both patient and scheming. She was more than content to hold her ground on the loveseat until he showed his face. And they both knew he had to sometime. She was flipping through her Potions book with intense disinterest, sighing each time the door opened to reveal someone other than her annoying blonde friend. She couldn't wait to corner him about Granger. It was too good to let go.

At long last, just five minutes before curfew, a brilliant blonde head of hair ducked into the room. He shut the door gingerly as not to attract much notice. He let out a sigh of relief and started to make his way to his room. In the dark, he didn't see Pansy curled up on the couch just feet from him.

"Draco."

The boy nearly hit the ceiling. If Pansy hadn't been so content on seeming serious, she would've erupted into laughter. His shocked face searched the room for her before finding her smirk in the dim lighting. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Pansy."

"You've been avoiding me."

"What? I've done no such thing!" he argued defensively. She gave him a pointed look that shut him up. "Then why have I not seen you since I told you we needed to talk at the ball? Is that just a coincidence?"

Draco shook his head and settled on the couch beside her. "Fine. Maybe I have been trying to be places where you are not."

Pansy shoved him playfully, inciting a wounded cry from him. She rolled her eyes at his boyish smile. "I know. I figured I would give you a while to come to your senses, but then I remembered that you were a boy and don't have any," she teased. He slung an arm across her shoulders and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"What did you want to talk about, Pans?" Draco asked, though he knew exactly what she was going to question him about. He had been avoiding her until he could figure out how to explain himself. He still hadn't sorted it out, so it was just as well that she caught him then.

A sharp jab to his ribs got his attention. "Okay, okay. You want to know about Granger."

"You should have known better than to try to hide, Draco. Honestly. You know I would never judge you for anything. We're not that kind of friends. Don't be afraid to tell me if you've got some weird thing going on with Granger. It's not like I'm going to run off and shout it to the whole school. You know me better than that," Pansy scolded the boy sternly. He hung his head in shame, his pale cheeks blushing red.

"Sorry, Pans," he muttered apologetically. Draco hated it when Pansy put him in his place. And she did it more often that he'd like to admit. "I just didn't know what to say."

Pansy leaned into him, enjoying his warmth. "Are you friends now?"

Draco was rather quiet. He seemed to be thinking and she let him. Eventually, he answered her. "I'm afraid we are."

She couldn't contain the laugh that had been building up in her chest. "Oh Merlin, Draco, you're screwed."

"Believe me," he sighed, "I know."

* * *

"You told Pansy Parkinson? Are you daft?" Hermione cried in disbelief. Draco cowered a bit under her fierce expression. But he was a prideful boy and didn't let her get the better of him for long. With a haughty pose long since instilled in him, he crossed his arms defensively and stuck his nose up. Hermione found him completely ridiculous and had no qualms about telling him so. "Oh, come off it. I know you're trying to look down on me, but you can't. We're the same height, you git."

The blonde's cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink, and he dropped his chin to meet her twinkling eyes. "Fine. Perhaps that's true. But I'm not going to apologize about telling Pansy. She had already guessed, anyway. She's known something was going on since the night I brought you to the hospital wing."

"I wasn't looking for an apology," Hermione stated as she swung her bag off her shoulder. It dropped to the floor with a loud thud that made Draco wince. Merlin only knew how many books it must have taken to make that loud of a sound. For such a tiny witch, she must have been as strong as an ox carrying twice her weight in the form of books. "I just can't believe that she knows and the rest of the school hasn't been told already."

Draco's lips tugged downwards into a wounded frown. In a huff, he snapped, "Nice to see how little you think of my friends."

"I thought you had henchmen?" Hermione wondered with a teasing grin. Now that she had definitely confirmed that his bark had no bite, she found him amusing rather than annoying. Draco hated how it made the butterflies in his stomach roar to life. Ever since the Yule Ball, he couldn't see her without seeing the ghost of the gorgeous girl he danced with. He was a Malfoy, so he knew he was shallow. But it was about more than just the outer beauty he hadn't known was there. It was seeing that the beauty he was coming to realize she had on the inside was so powerful that it leaked through to the outside.

"You're just so clever, aren't you?" he muttered, trying not to let his amusement show. Of course, she managed to see right through him, a gift even Pansy hadn't perfected, and poked him in the ribs. He shot her a scandalized look as he scooted away from her. "Crazy, too, it seems."

She only laughed at his words, a sound that reminded him of a symphony. "I'd have to be to entertain this madness with you, wouldn't I?"

"You're right, I suppose."

"As always."

"As always," he sighed in reluctant agreement.

"So," she began slowly, suddenly finding her feet terribly fascinating. "If Pansy knows, then you should know that the twins know, too."

Hermione grew concerned when she looked up to see his reaction only to find that he was frozen. When he finally started breathing again, he picked his bag up off the floor, swung it over his shoulder, and marched off.

A little miffed, Hermione started after him. "Hey, where are you going?"

He threw her an irritated look over his shoulder and answered sourly, "I'm off to start preparing my last rites."

Her laughter followed him down the hall, though he didn't get very far before he felt her slender hand wrap around his wrist. He forced himself to think about anything other than how amazing it had felt to hold her so close at the ball. Every time she touched him, she did something to his heart that he feared was irreparable. He was not used to so much physical affection or well, any affection really. And to her, it was entirely normal. Draco wasn't sure what was worse. The fact that he couldn't get the Muggleborn out of his head or that he envied the love-filled life that she had lived.

"Draco, wait," she instructed. He listened. She came to a stop in front of him. "They're not going to kill you, idiot. They won't bother you at all. Well, no more than usual."

"How reassuring," he said, largely unimpressed by her reassurance. "How did they even find out?"

"Yule Ball," Hermione admitted shyly, her cheeks flushing a brilliant scarlet at the memory. "After you left, when you heard Pansy calling you. They were there."

"You-you mean they saw us?"

She nodded slowly. "They had seen me run out of the Great Hall and wanted to make sure I was okay. I mean, they were my fairy godmothers, after all."

* * *

"Drake? Are you out here?" a feminine voice called, echoing through the empty corridor. Hermione felt Draco chest expand and fall as he breathed out a sigh. "That's Pansy. I should-I should go."

Hermione nodded against his shoulder. They parted reluctantly, not that either were likely to admit it. Draco used the sleeve of his dress robes to wipe the tears from her face trying his best to ignore her beautiful eyes. "Don't let him ruin your night. He's not worth it."

Before he turned to leave and before she lost her nerve, Hermione leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Draco."

He left in a bit of a daze.

Hermione watched him go wistfully. Once he was gone, she looked around for her shoes. The dastardly heels had pinched her feet something awful, but even she had to admit that they were too pretty to toss away the way she had. As she reached for one, a voice cut into the silent hall.

"Malfoy, eh?"

Clutching a hand to her hammering heart, Hermione whirled around to find the voice's owner.

"What a sweet moment, Georgie," another voice chuckled.

"Fred? George?" Hermione questioned incredulously. At the sound of their names, the Weasley twins quite literally waltzed out of the shadow alcove a few feet to her left. "Hermione, my dear," they greeted in unison as they fell to a halt in front of her.

She craned her neck to look up at the tall, lanky boys. While she had them to thank for looking so pretty tonight, she couldn't help but fear the mischievous grins splitting their faces. Hermione gulped nervously. "H-hi, boys. What are you doing out here?"

"Well, we'd seen you run off-"

"So we decided to see what was wrong-"

"And imagine our surprise-"

"When someone had already beaten us to it-"

"And that that someone was none other than-"

"Draco Malfoy," they finished together. Hermione felt a bit dizzy from following the back and forth manner of the twins. "So," Fred said alone, "Malfoy, eh?"

The older boys loved seeing Hermione Granger so flustered. She was always so together, always so much more mature than them. They watched in amusement as she fumbled over her words, her cheeks flaming red. "I-I can explain? He was there and I was-well, you see we were-and I was-"

"Don't hurt yourself, Hermione. I can practically see the steam coming out your ears," Fred laughed, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. All her stress faded away at his touch. She knew the boys loved her. She knew to expect copious amounts of teasing, but that they were nothing to fear.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, her tears returning. "It's just-this night hasn't been the best. And we've been trying so hard to hide it, but now that's ruined."

Hermione found herself in the middle of a Weasley twin sandwich, the boys bear hugging her from either side. "Calm down, Mione," George said, "You've got nothing to worry about. Your secret's safe with us."

"R-really?"

"Of course," Fred said as they released her. "Please, Mione, as if we haven't known since the night he carried you to the hospital wing-"

"And how he visited you nearly every day after," George finished with a pleased smile. "There's not much in this castle that gets by us. And, that being the case, we've decided he doesn't need to die. Yet. It seems he's actually been…nice to you."

It was Hermione's turn to tackle them with a bone crushing hug.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but are you telling me that Fred and George knew about this the whole time?" Harry exclaimed incredulously. "I thought all those jokes and all the teasing about you liking someone was because they thought you liked Ron."

"As bloody if! There's not a chance _that_ ever would have worked," Pansy scoffed.

In defense of his ginger friend, Harry threw a gesturing hand out to Hermione and Draco. "Oh, but somehow _this_ does?"

"Okay, now I feel left out," Draco piped up, "I think Hermione and I can defend our own relationship, thanks."

Both Harry and Pansy shot the wounded boy a dirty look. "Fine," Pansy huffed, "But honestly, Potter, those two crazy idiots knew everything about this castle. You think something this big would escape their notice?"

"We felt better each having a person that knew about us," Hermione admitted quietly. "I mean, technically I had two, but we both agreed the twins counted as one."

Draco smirked weakly and nudged her. "Yeah. And now Potter knows, so I get to tell someone else. I'm sure my father would love to hear about this."

Hermione smiled down at him fondly and pressed a kiss to his feverish forehead. "Aw, sweetie, you're really not as funny as you think you are."

"I try," he coughed, wincing as the action made his open wounds scream in agony. His pain seemed to only have worsened since they had returned him to bed, and Hermione hated feeling so helpless. Harry, of course, couldn't stand it, seeing what he had caused while Pansy fretted over her dearest, though in her opinion, idiotic, friend. There were a few tense moments where the two Gryffindors and female Slytherin tore the infirmary apart in search of one of Pomfrey's pain relieving potions. Pansy managed to rifle through the storage cabinet and find the lavender colored potion.

Harry observed the outrageous scene before him with a numbed detachment. Pansy and Hermione were perched on either side of Draco's bed, each one fussing over him despite his feeble attempts to brush them off. He couldn't help but be reminded of all the times Ron, Hermione, and himself had been in such a position. The role of Draco, the invalid, had of course been played by all three of them various times. With a pang of sadness, he realized the students of their year seemed to land themselves more times in the infirmary than those of any other.

Finding out about the dangerous relationship between his best friend and his enemy seemed only to ensure that such a record would continue to be upheld. Merlin, help him.

* * *

 ** _A/N: I believe it was_ dixie326 _who suggested I add Pansy in. I had thought about doing just that before she mentioned it, so I'm glad she did. It reassured me that at least one person would like her to join the present group rather than just be seen in the flashbacks. Please leave a review to let me know what you think! :)_**


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